


Anniversary

by TinCanTelephone



Series: From Tumblr, With <3 [19]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cassian Andor-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post Traumatic Stress, Pre-Relationship, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/TinCanTelephone
Summary: One year after Scarif, Cassian's struggling.Being on Hoth really doesn't help.





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstridMyrna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridMyrna/gifts).



> Once again, angst for @thegiddyowl- because she is wonderful and I owe her a thousand favors :)

If he were a different sort of man, Cassian supposes he wouldn’t be here. If there was any sort of justice in the galaxy, it would be because he was dead.

It would have been simpler, he thinks, if he’d died on Scarif. He was ready. In the moment, kneeling on the beach with Jyn and waiting for the light to claim them, he almost felt… complete. It felt right that he would die there, after his last, desperate attempt to redeem himself for everything he’d done. 

But he’s alive, and maybe redemption is bantha-shit because the guilt is still there, slowly eating away at his soul while the rest of him freezes on Hoth. 

Technically, he doesn’t have to be here. Mon Mothma, forgiving and kind-hearted soul that she is, gave him an out when the location of the new base was announced. 

“Of course, you don’t have to be stationed there,” she said. “There are plenty of positions for you here on Home I.” 

“Accessory positions,” he said. “I’d be more useful there.”

She shook her head. “It’s not necessary. And your doctor says the cold–”

“I’m fine,” he said, gritting his teeth at the reminder that he had a doctor that was his specifically, to deal with his myriad of problems since Scarif.

Mothma looked doubtful, but allowed it. Probably because he’s right, he  _is_  more useful on Echo Base, even though it sometimes feels like a personal hell. 

The cold sank into his bones and set his bad leg throbbing as soon as he stepped off the transport, and he doesn’t believe he’s been truly warm since. 

But he never complains, never says a word about how the piercing, icy cold is hell on his leg and his back and his lungs, how he shivers at night under three thermal blankets. 

He deserves no less, he thinks, for what he’s lived to do. 

 

Jyn and Bodhi and Baze and Chirrut are here as well, and he supposes he should take comfort in that, but it’s hard when they seem so… unaffected by it all. 

None of them seem to feel the cold like he does– even Jyn, who’s smaller than him but still shows up in the mess wearing only a single jacket and vest if she’s just worked out. He watches her with a vague, uncomfortable feeling between fascination and jealousy as her scarf slumps loosely around her neck and the healthy flush remains on her cheeks. 

She, and the rest of his… team, for a lack of a better term, seem  _happy_. They talk and laugh about missions and base gossip while he feels weighed down, grounded indefinitely from missions and isolated from the rumor mill by his rank. Most days, he sits with them and listens in silence, trying to absorb their levity and frustrated to find it just out of his reach. 

Then one day, he can’t join them at all. He sees them laughing from the doorway of the mess and he has to turn away, limp back to his quarters and press tears from his eyes because that feeling of joy is so foreign. 

Bodhi seeks him out, finds him in an empty briefing room, someone else’s mission details projected on the walls. 

“Hey.” He approaches carefully, from the side, like Cassian’s an animal he’d best not spook. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” 

_Okay_  is a relative term. His leg hurts so much he’s shifted most of his weight off of it, and his chest feels ominously tight in a way that makes him afraid he’s getting another cough. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?” Bodhi steps closer and looks closely at him from wide, concerned eyes.

“I’m sure.” Cassian’s not sure how well he can control his face if Bodhi keeps pressing him, but the way his leg feels right now, he can’t step away. 

“We worry about you,” Bodhi says. 

Perversely, this hurts. He doesn’t deserve their concern. “You don’t have to.”

“But we do,” Bodhi says. “We hate seeing you unhappy.” 

“I’m not unhappy.”

“Cassian.” Bodhi steps even closer. “Please.” He puts an hand gently on Cassian’s arm, and even through four layers of clothing, Cassian jerks away like it burns. 

“Stop it.”

“I’m sorry.” Bodhi raises his hands and steps back. “Please just understand… we care about you. And you can talk to any one of us. About anything.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Bodhi shakes his head. “You don’t believe that.”

He doesn’t. But he couldn’t possibly find the words, so it comes to the same thing. “I’m fine, Bodhi.”

Bodhi looks disappointed, but retreats. 

Cassian watches him go, then turns back to the documents projected on the walls. He glances at the date and notices that tomorrow it’ll be exactly one standard year after Scarif. 

His heart breaks a little at the realization, and he doesn’t know whether the time feels too long or too short. Long because he feels like he’s aged far more than a year since then, short because he still has nightmares as if it was yesterday. 

He doesn’t know if anyone else realizes it. 

He’s tempted to bring it up the next day. Just ask them about it over breakfast, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out, the words stopped when he imagines how their smiles will fade, and their faces will harden. He can’t take away their happiness, drag them down with his melancholy. 

He closes his mouth and sits back in his seat, but Jyn still notices. “Sorry, Cassian. What were you going to say?”

She’s sitting next to him today, and his uncooperative and unfocused mind suddenly focuses on how she looks warm, and in the close space of their table he can imagine the heat coming off her. “Nothing.” 

She looks closely at him. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“Just tired.” He surprises himself when he can’t even muster an  _I’m fine_. 

“You look pale,” she decides. “Maybe you should lie down.”

When he thinks about it, lying down doesn’t seem like the worst idea, but it would interfere with his plan of distracting himself with work to escape his thoughts. “I don’t think so.” 

“I do.”

Cassian looks across the table for help, but Bodhi’s staring resolutely at his food, Baze is watching with the same stony, unchanging face, and Chirrut–

“I think you look pale as well.” Chirrut always sides with Jyn. 

Jyn stands and holds out her hand. “Come on, Cassian.” 

Gods, he loves the way his name sounds on her tongue. “Okay.”

She blinks, like she’s surprised he agreed, but pulls him up when he takes her hand and follows her back to his quarters. 

“Lie down,” she commands when he lets them in. 

He does, stripping off his outer layers and sliding under the blankets, trying not to visibly shiver when the cold still bites through them. 

Jyn still notices. “Are you cold?” 

“I’m warm enough.”

She huffs. “Hold on.”

Then she’s gone, and Cassian stares at the ceiling. He’s not sure what has him so out of sorts, unable to hide his inner turmoil in his usual way. Maybe it’s the cough that’s still coming on, lingering in the scratchiness of his throat and discomfort in his lungs. But maybe it’s just the day, and this is what happens when he’s overwhelmed, and everything becomes too much. 

Jyn returns without knocking, and he doesn’t have time to consider how fast she sliced his lock before she throws two more blankets over him, pulling them snugly over his feet and up to his shoulders. 

“There,” she says. “Are you actually warm now?”

“Yes.” Although it’s not a good measure when she’s here. He always feels warmer when he’s looking at her. 

“Good.” She pulls the chair from his desk next to his bed and sits down, elbows on her knees and staring at her lap. 

He waits for her to speak, so he can begin to figure out what’s in her mind.

“I know what day it is,” she says. 

_Oh._  He nods, unsure of what to say. He thinks at some point he must’ve planned for this, what to say when the others admitted they understood. But now he can’t remember any of it. He really does feel warmer, under two extra blankets, and he’s starting to feel tired. 

She looks over at him. "It’s all right. You can go to sleep.” Her fingers unclench in her lap and for a second, he thinks maybe she'll reach out to him, but she doesn't. “You don’t always have to keep going when it’s hard, you know. Sometimes it’s okay to just… stop.”

And somehow when she says it, everything makes sense, so he lets his eyes slip closed, feels the reassuring weight of the blankets pressing down on him, listens to the sound of Jyn’s breathing just next to him. 

She doesn’t say anything else while he dozes. And he’s glad. He’s not sure what anyone could say that would make him feel better, but to know that she cares enough to be here– to bring him back to bed, to find him extra blankets, and to sit quietly in his room while he sleeps– means so much more than he can articulate. 

He’ll find the words some day, he thinks. And he’ll tell her what she is to him. 

But for now he rests, and remembers that he’s not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/177230037905/fic-anniversary)
> 
>  
> 
> Pls don’t @ me about timelines– I’m not sure the anniversary of Scarif overlaps with the Rebellion’s time on Hoth but it works for me here… so just roll w/ it this time 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm still on tumblr as [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
